


The Ghost of You

by flimsycoats



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsycoats/pseuds/flimsycoats
Summary: Claude von Riegan is the leader of an infamous gang in Fódlan City. You're a bartender at the Garreg Mach Night Club downtown. A spontaneous rendezvous one evening leads to a life filled with chaos and adventure and utmost longing; but it's been months since then—was it all just a fever dream?
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Reader, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	1. while the sun's down

**Author's Note:**

> modern/gang au
> 
> at first, i just wanted to see claude wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle. and then, suddenly, i wrote this.
> 
> today i bring you a slightly flirty!claude. uwu

The Garreg Mach Night Club.

A notorious joint famous for accepting even criminals. It's located in Fódlan City. Or the City of Dim Lights—as most people like to call it. It's famous for the gangs that reside beneath the concrete of the highly modernized capital. Drugs, gambling, hitmen for hire, and other illegal dealings regularly occur there, most especially during the night time; hence the city's alias. The City of Dim Lights is a reference to how the brightest part of the entire city—the underground—always, always outshone the dim post lights of the regions on the surface at night. You were born and raised in the outskirts of Fodlan's underground. Selfish and relentless were the kinds of people you grew up with; which resulted in you being forced to toughen your spirit and heave up your chest proudly just for the sake of surviving. You weren't rich; far from it, truth be told. The scarcity of proper jobs at the heart of the city prevented you from living a life filled with a sense of normalcy. Which was why you ended up being a bartender at the aforementioned night club—fraternizing with gang leaders and regular bystanders alike.

Almost everyone you've crossed paths with at the club have called you an open book despite the mystery that clouded your background.

And you understand the analogy. You have a leather spine, a tattered cover with equally torn up pages, all filled with hazy writings to complete the ensemble. Resolute and unswerving—seemingly unwavered by all your past hardships and future endeavors. Those who are affiliated with the world underground have heard your name at least once or twice; but you weren't necessarily a troublemaker—quite the opposite, really. You prefer keeping a low profile, but your circumstances precludes you from doing so. In Fodlan's underground, you're known because of your connections. Contacts. You know everything about everyone. How could you not? Most of them are regulars at the club you work at, after all.

You're friends with almost every gang leader, every criminal. You've made countless drinks and have covered up for them more times than you should in a lifetime. That's why if someone wants to get by through living underground, a connection with you would help them immensely. You know gangs that were looking for recruits, shady job listings, and a variety of other things that most newbies often seek for.

“Hey, you!”

Turning your head towards the sonorous voice that called out to you, you were faced with none other than one of your new regulars; Leonie Pinelli. One of the members of the rising gang, the Golden Deer. Golden Deer wasn't a name known by all until recently when it suddenly climbed up the rankings as soon as news spread about how they were able to diminish three of the other gangs in the vicinity in one go. Now on par with the infamous Blue Lions and Black Eagles, those who had the symbol of the Golden Deer engraved on their motorcycle were automatically treated with utmost respect; after all, they truly were a force to be reckoned with.

You glance at your wrist watch, which clearly says nine-thirty in the evening. It's still fairly early; the night club was still pretty much empty except for those who went in early intentionally to avoid big crowds. Sighing, you take the initiative to start making Leonie's drink to get things over with.

“The usual?” Now looking down on your cocktail shaker, you calmly extend your hand out to reach for a bar towel, arching up a brow in the process as you await for your customer's response.

It was often like this. A customer appears, you engage in conversation, and finish creating their drink midway. Most times they'd tell you about their most recent deal—or maybe talk about how their rival gang tried to do this and how another tried to do that, and whatnot. You've always been a good listener. Easy to talk to, easy to get along with, easy to trust.

“You bet,” Leonie lets a sigh escape through her lips, now plopping up her elbow on the bar and resting her chin atop her palm, she soon flutters her eyes close to presumably try to relax her tense demeanor. “Rough day today. Our leader got into more trouble. He's been scheming stuff again.”

“Oh?” You raise your head to face Leonie. “Wait. Who's your leader again? I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting him yet.”

“Claude von Riegan. He angered some of the drug lords in the west wing. Some of them retaliated, and now Raphael and Hilda's bikes are completely thrashed.” You could practically feel the exhaustion dripping from her tone of voice, releasing a sigh yourself.

“The guy that Lorenz complains about frequently. I see.” Shrugging, you begin to mix in the ingredients needed for Leonie's beverage. A Campari spritz. It suits her well, if you were being honest. Campari basically tastes like a bittersweet orange, when paired with a Prosecco and some club soda, it makes the perfect drink, especially if you want to relieve yourself of stress. “He sounds tiring.” You add.

“Tiring? You don't even know me, Miss.”

With a shiver running down your spine, you snap your gaze towards the source of voice, soon gulping down the lump forming in your throat.

Brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and a coy grin that sent you waves and waves of emotion. He takes a seat near Leonie, leaving a space open in the middle of them. The female could only suck in her cheeks, releasing a heavy sigh.

“Speak of the Devil. This is Claude.” She waves at Claude lightly, her eyes glued on you. “I'll just get my drink and be on my way.” Leonie tells you. You nod curtly after that.

“Eager to get away from me. I'm hurt, Leonie.” His chuckle sounds akin to a pleasant violin playing inside a music hall; sweet and serene, freely allowing euphoria to swirl inside your system with each passing second.

“Say what you will. I'm getting out of here.” As soon as those words leave Leonie's mouth, you finish making her drink, now sliding her glass towards her. She, in turn, also slides her payment for the drink across the bar.

With a warm smile, she nods at you. “Thanks so much! I'll go ahead and dance for a while.”

And, so, she walks away—leaving you alone with none other than their 'tiring' leader. Peering towards the said male, you blink a couple of times as soon as you see his eyes locked onto your own.

Despite the overly loud music in the club, you could still hear your heart pounding.

“So. what's your poison?” You ask hesitantly, grabbing yet another bar towel, looking down on the ground to avoid his stare.

“Smoked Rose. And a scotch.” Yikes. His choice of drinks made you scrunch your nose. By the looks of it, he likes his liquor hard and heavy. It contrasts with his sweet, soft aura.

“Don't think I'll let your comment about me slide, Miss.” Claude states, a smile adorning his features as he watches you lose your composure ever so slowly. “You'll have to make up for it if you want us to get along.”

“Make up for it?” You cock up an eyebrow once more, a grin now evident on your lips as you release a low cackle. “No, thanks. I think you need me more than I need you.”

“Really? You're funny.” His eyes scan you from up to bottom, your cheeks reddening as he nods in acknowledgement. “I can't say you're wrong, though.” He flies you a wink—now laughing quietly at your reactions.

“That's not what I meant, Mister von Riegan.” You finish off his drinks, sliding them across the mahogany bar as well, subsequently rolling your eyes soon, all the while your cheeks remain red. You try to avoid meeting his eyes, fixating on the growing crowd on the dance floor instead.

Claude feels tempted to ask you how you know his last name, but he decides against it in the end, as he is sure that one of his gang members has probably told you. His guess is mainly Leonie, based on how the two of you were conversing about him prior to when he arrived at the club.

“Loosen up. I was only kidding,” He takes a small sip from his Smoked Rose, his eyes closing once the variety of flavors shroud his tongue. With a satisfied hum, he puts his drink down, leaning towards you. “Well, sort of.”

Folding down your bar towel, you finally decide to stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you also take the initiative to lean closer. His breath already smelled like the cocktail. “Are you implying something?” You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Let's ditch.” He says bluntly. The intensity of his green eyes grew with each word. “It's boring here. And, besides—” He downs his first drink, sending yet another wink your way.

“Let's see if I really am tiring, yeah?”

“We've only met a couple of minutes ago, and you're already asking me out?” You snort. “Guess I have to be careful. Wouldn't want you suddenly proposing to me after a few hours of spending time together, after all.”

“Is that a yes?” He smirks at you, resting his chin atop his palm as he subtly raises his eyebrows suggestively. You stand there, taking everything into account before doing anything. Claude takes this opportunity to nudge his money towards you.

Sighing, you shrug.

You don't know what came over you, in all honesty. You take his money off the bar, hastily placing it inside one of the drawers as you steal a quick glance to Claude's direction. Stripping off your apron and tossing it to your fellow bartender, you dust off your skirt, soon sliding over the bartop. You send Claude a nod once you land on your feet, purposely walking ahead of him.

Even though your back was turned, you knew you left Claude's mouth agape with how fast you were with your decision. With a smirk lingering on your lips proudly, you continue heading towards the parking lot of the club.

“Couldn't resist my good looks and charm, I see.” These were the brunette's first words to you when he finally manages to catch up, slinging an arm around your shoulders as the both of you walk side by side. You snicker, raising your right hand and lightly caressing his own to tease him; you watch his face fill with the color red, cocking up a curious brow at you. And as he was about to speak, you promptly shrug off his arm, now walking ahead of him once more.

“You wish that were the case, though—don't you, Mister von Riegan?”

By the time these words leave your mouth, the both of you reach a motorcycle with the Golden Deer's crest engraved on its engine—the yellow blending with the blacks and silvers well. Claude retrieves his keys from his leather jacket's pockets.

Slinging one leg over the seat, he places the key to ignite the engine. After so, he turns his head back, his eyes fixated on you as he lets a coy smile capture his lips for the nth time this evening. “Tease me all you want, Miss.” He tugs you closer by the arm, his face in close proximity with yours. You suck in a sharp breath.

“Just don't be surprised if I end up retaliating.” He whispers into your ear; smirking subsequently.

Soon placing a helmet atop your head, he chortles softly when he notices your cheeks flaring red despite the helmet blocking most of your face.

* * *

It's been around an hour or so ever since you and Claude left the club. Right before leaving, he gave you a choice: take a seat behind him, or take a seat in front of him. While the former tempted you greatly because you'd be able to tease him even more, you chose the latter, primarily because you wanted to be able to lean on his chest.

Claude won either way, though.

In truth, he's heard your name several times from his fellow gang members and some acquaintances outside his group. Rumors about a bartender knowing all the secrets there was to know about every gang underground piqued Claude's interest greatly. And as a naturally curious person, he made it a goal to meet you, gather intel, and recruit you.

But he didn't really expect you'd be more fascinating than your secrets.

“We're here.” With a low voice that sends cold shivers down your spine, Claude slowly opens his arms to let you move; his fingers lightly touch your arms once he pulls them down to his sides. You manage to keep your cool, huffing inaudibly as you brush your right hand on his thigh slowly to aid and hoist you up from the motorcycle seat—sneaking in a glance at Claude's bewildered face.

He clicks his tongue in frustration, hiding his keys inside his pocket before towering over you.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Even though he tries his hardest to conceal it, a small smile still makes its way to his lips all the while his eyes narrowed into slits. “You're such a tease.” He adds.

Walking away, he gestures for you to follow him. Since you were too engrossed with Claude earlier, you weren't able to scan your surroundings. Claude's motorcycle is parked in the cemented part of the sandy shore; completely in line with the wide parking spot. Your eyes peer towards the vast ocean, noticing the way it reflected the moon's beams in a manner that flattered both parties. In the corner of the shore—and north of the small parking lot—lies an old, quaint gazebo; you know it isn't cared for judging by the moss that continues to grow inside the nooks and crannies of its roof. The vines that hang above the structure are lifeless and limp, and the arches have cracks that still appear visible even though you're kilometers away.

“Where are we?” You question, confusion painting your face as you stare up at the taller male. “You're not going to kill me, or something, right—?”

He gawks at you curiously, soon roaring with laughter when he figures out that you were actually asking a serious question. He clears all of your worries as soon as he shakes his head dismissively, sending you a reassuring glance as well.

“This is one of the oldest structures here in the city,” Claude comments, dragging you inside the comforts of the gazebo. “It's strange, though, right? Who puts a gazebo near a beach?”

With this, the both of you release low (but audible) chuckles. You catch a glimpse of the moon shedding light on Claude's smiling expression, rendering you unable to tear your gaze off of him.

This was odd.

You've only met him tonight. But something about him drew you close; it made you want to make him give you everything he had. From his chaste lips and his sparkling green eyes, up until his toned muscles and refined structure—you couldn't get enough. You'd voice out your desires if only you didn't think of what he'd say. Did he want you the same way? Did he think that every little crack in your body was holy and ethereal? Or did he want something more from you?

You inwardly laugh at yourself for thinking so. Even if he did want something more for you, all that you could offer to him was rough and intimate sex and a spontaneous rendezvous from time to time.

As your thoughts slowly succumb to your whole being, you didn't even notice that your gaze lingers on the brunette's lips a little longer than you intended it to; but as soon as you regain your composure, you look away. You could feel your cheeks reddening yet again as you lean on the rails of the gazebo.

“You intrigue me.”

Your ears perk up upon hearing Claude's sentiments, turning your whole body around to face him all the while your elbows lie atop the railings, still. You arch up an eyebrow, a small smile capturing your expression as you watch Claude intently.

“Whatever could you mean, Mister von Riegan?” You say dramatically. “Never thought I'd live to see a notorious gang leader get intrigued by a lowly bartender like me. Shouldn't it be the other way around?”

The male takes a couple of steps forward, cornering you onto the railings as his eyes gradually fill with longing and desire. He secures you in your spot by trapping you with his arms through placing them atop the railings as well.

“Are you implying that you're interested in me, Miss?” His voice was low, to the point that it started to sound raspy. But you didn't mind. You were only able to focus on the beats of your heart; your head going blank as you tried to keep yourself steady. Without even a second to spare, you feel one of Claude's arms snake up your back, now supporting your weight so that you wouldn't fall in case you became too embarrassed.

“N-No. That's not what I meant,” You cursed yourself for stuttering. “I was just.. surprised. That's all.” After you explain yourself briefly, you hear him snickering at you; his green optics glancing at your lips before averting them to meet your own eyes.

Gods. You feel like you were going to faint.

“W-What are you scheming, Claude?” You mutter out weakly, subconsciously leaning in closer as the male does the same. He grins at you.

“Stop talking for a while.”

And then, it happened. Your lips collide with his; now completely in sync with each other as you deepen the kiss. You throw your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you tried to keep up with his pace, your eyebrows knitted together with how satisfied you felt after craving for intimacy with him ever since you met him approximately two hours ago.

It was intense. With passion that never seemed to waver despite the passing seconds. He pulls you closer to his body, his hands roaming around your back as you muffle out a moan. With his chest pressed closely to yours, you could feel his uneven heartbeats—gradually quickening.

You open your eyes, parting from the male for a while to compensate for the air you lost.

“You really are tiring,” You remark casually, chuckling in amusement as you see him flash you a toothy grin. He connects his forehead with yours as he flutters his eyes close temporarily. You two stay like that for a while.

“In a good way, though, right?”

You roll your eyes. Placing your hands on both of his sides, you press him closer, your lips making in contact with his yet again.

You hum in satisfaction.

“I guess you can say that.”

And so, the night trudges on. The both of you continue to roam around the beach, bare-footed, hands intertwined. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was a one time thing only; otherwise you'd start to warm up to his hand holding yours. Either way, you didn't dwell much into it. There was no point in doing so, anyway.

It went on like that for a week. He'd pick you up from the club, head to somewhere more private—occasionally stealing more and more kisses as time progressed. Hours together started to feel more like minutes with how fast-paced everything seemed to be. But you didn't mind; not at all.

Perhaps you adored the idea of someone calling you fascinating, gawking and fawning at everything about you, even the most mundane of traits. You were an open book. But to Claude, you were someone he had to decipher first in order to understand.

And you didn't know which you loved more: the way his lips matched yours whenever the two of you shared a kiss, or the way his eyes seemed to grow more curious every time he was with you.

Either way, it was a change of scenery.


	2. liquid courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even through the months in which you relinquished dwelling on Claude's absence, you still weren't able to forget about him completely. Especially since your regulars often talked about him. Claude von Riegan. The relentless leader who has led his gang into countless victories with each passing day. From every table in the club, in every private room in hotels, and even among the crowds underground—all they talked about was him. 
> 
> As atrocious as it was, you missed him; terribly so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last part ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It's been months ever since your encounter with the ambitious gang leader of the Golden Deer. Months ever since you last saw him. Since you last rode his motorcycle with him. Since you last kissed him.

It was agonizing. Truth be told, your relationship with Claude remained unclear up until your final day together. If you knew he'd disappear without a warning, you would have at least tried to grasp a sense of clarity about what the two of you were. No messages, no calls, nothing. It was as if he was never even there to begin with.

Did you care? No. You assured yourself time and time again that you didn't care. But it was getting hard to believe in your own words—especially when you could practically feel your chest throb in pain at the thought of him.

Even through the months in which you relinquished dwelling about Claude's absence, you still weren't able to forget about him completely. Especially since your regulars often talked about him. Claude von Riegan. The relentless leader who has led his gang into countless victories with each passing day. From every table in the club, in every private room in hotels, and even amongst the crowds underground—all they talked about was him. 

As atrocious as it was, you missed him; terribly so.

But, alas, your pride prevented you from ever reaching out, not wanting to be addressed as needy or desperate by him or his gang members, as it would tarnish your reputation greatly. You didn't want your regulars and peers calling you out for being oddly smitten over a gang leader. Although that assumption was far-fetched because you knew your friends wouldn't jump into senseless conclusions, you didn't want to risk anything; or perhaps you were only creating excuses to justify your petty unreasoning.

Sometimes, you wondered if what happened between the two of you were actually real—perhaps that chaos filled week was just a figment of your imagination, or a hazy fever dream; maybe it was just one of your 9pm daydreams. You wished that were the case. But you shut those ideas down as soon as they popped up, as you were far too unimaginative to create someone with so much personality and life. 

Currently, it's half-past one in the morning; the club is packed with lively people. The neon lights from the ceiling flash to every corner of the establishment. It's a hectic night for you and your fellow staff members.

Today, some of the gangs set up a ceasefire to celebrate among each other. Most of them are already either drunk, dancing sloppily in the dance floor, fucking someone in the parking lot, or throwing up in one of the toilets. You could only sigh out of pity when you think of how much mess the maintenance staff was going to clean up in the morning.

“Y/N!” 

You open your eyes, staring at none other than Sylvain Jose Gautier, walking side by side with his two best friends: Felix Hugo Faldarius and Ingrid Brandl Galatea. The three were members of the elite gang known as Blue Lions—famous for the recently held Battle of the Eagle and Lion. It was a three-way match between the three major gangs underground—Blue Lions, Black Eagles, and Golden Deer.

“Haven't seen you three in a while,” You note, propping your elbow on the counter. “How've you been?”

“The same as always,” With a sigh, Ingrid advances towards one of the bar stools, removing her coat in the process of sitting down. “Dimitri's been calmer, though. So I guess that's progress.”

“What's up with him?” You question curiously, now eye to eye with Ingrid. “We lost during that three-way battle. And to Golden Deer, nonetheless!”

“Oh,” You stifle a laugh to avoid offending them. Golden Deer, huh? “Is it his first time losing?”

Felix clicks his tongue as soon as he and Sylvain take a seat next to Ingrid, rolling his eyes suit. He shakes his head profusely. Retrieving his phone from his jacket's pocket, he directs his focus to the screen to avoid unnecessary eye contact. “No. It's his first time losing to a newbie, though.”

The redhead soon chuckles at Felix's statement. “We were all livid, believe me. That gang leader was something else.”

You blink a couple of times.

“Claude, right?” His name slips off your mouth casually, leaving a bitter taste, but you fight the urge to express your visible frustration to avoid sparking up unneeded attention. “It's just dumb luck. Dimitri is practically unmatched. The only person who can really defeat him a handful of times is Edelgard.” You scoff after. Maybe a part of you only said that out of spite, but your statement still rang true, somehow. 

“You're probably right,” Ingrid inhales a deep breath. “Still, Dimitri has been extra uptight ever since. We're all exhausted.”

“Then are you sure you made the right decision, going to a club?” You instinctively frown as soon as Ingrid finishes speaking. Although they're able to mask the fatigue that practically shrouds the entirety of their bodies, your eyes still manage to take notice of how their movements have been more scattered than usual. “You should go to a spa. Or a coffee shop. Or sleep at home,” These suggestions came rolling off your tongue naturally, pursing your lips after.

Felix keeps quiet. Ingrid and Sylvain chuckle in unison. With a dismissive wave, Sylvain shakes his head. “No, no. We'll be okay. After what we went through the past week, we could really use a drink made by the best bartender in town.” Sending you one of his signature winks, he finishes.

At this, you sigh in defeat. “All right, fine. But I'll choose your drinks this time,” You straighten your posture, hastily taking a bar towel and a cocktail mixer. “And the first round's on me. No complaints.”

You turn away from them before they could object, grabbing a couple of bottles from the back. Vodkatini. The Vodkatini is basically just a mix of vodka and martini, but even though it's as simple as it gets, it still provides the drinker a great wave of relaxation. It's perfect for them.

You hum in approval once you've added enough ingredients inside the flask, soon placing in some ice as well. Finally putting the lid on top, you start to head back to where the three of them were, all the while shaking the beverage at hand.

“How long do you guys plan on—” Before you could even finish your sentence, a loud noise coming from the entrance of the club disrupts you. All four of you snap your eyes towards the group of people that just entered.

Dressed in mostly black and/or yellow, you gape at the group. You could faintly hear the murmurs from the bystanders nearby. The mutterings gradually build up to the point where it was all that you could hear; completely blocking the music blaring loudly on the speakers of the club.

“Great.” You hear Felix whisper. “Those Golden asses again,”

You could only swallow the lump in your throat out of sheer anxiety.

Walking in an enclosed circle, there they were. From left to right, it was Raphael, Ignatz, Hilda, Leonie, and Lorenz. You figured Marianne and Lysithea probably stayed at home as the two were never really fond of large crowds. You suck in the insides of your cheeks, however, as soon as none other than Claude von Riegan squeezes his way into the middle of the group.

At this, you scoff.

Stomping to get three glasses, you direct your focus to your task at hand, pouring the drink into each glass. “Here.” You force a smile at your friends, completely ignoring the members that were slowly nearing your side of the bar. “Drink up, guys. You all deserve it.”

Ingrid flashes you a smile. Felix places his phone down, and Sylvain rushes in excitedly to take his first sip. You laugh at how different these three were—but be that as it may, their dynamics made them a rather interesting trio.

“Care to tell why you're in a sour mood now as well?” Crap. Felix arches a brow at you, scanning your expression as you try to laugh it off nervously.

“Sour mood? Me? Never.” You reply briefly. You thank the Gods up above as soon as Felix drops the topic—now taking small sips from his drink as well. You relax your previously stiff shoulders as soon as the violet haired male's face shifts to a calmer, softer expression.

“Ah! Looks like everyone’s favorite bartender’s here tonight!”

So much for relaxation. Your shoulders stiffen up again upon hearing Raphael's loud voice—struggling to turn towards them. Ever since they arrived, you felt like your feet were glued to the floor. But, alas, you send an apologetic glance towards Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix; soon turning towards the other side of the bar.

“Hey!” Yet again, you force a small smile. “What can I get you guys tonight?”

“Aw. You're not even going to say you missed us?” Hilda frowns, placing a hand on her chest dramatically as she clutches her top tightly. “I'm hurt!” You could feel a familiar pair of green eyes staring at you, but you ignore it. Scratching your nape sheepishly, you chuckle at Hilda.

“Of course I missed you guys.” You perch a hand on your waist all the while tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear with your free hand. “It's been months since I last saw you!” Perhaps your last statement was more of a jab towards Claude than it was a friendly remark. Either way, you smile.

“Anyway! What can I get you all?”

* * *

Waves and waves of awkward air continue to surround the night. Stealing glances, avoiding contact, even going as far as getting your coworker to serve Claude's drinks just so you could steer clear away from the said male. You made it a goal to down a few drinks yourself, to ease your nerves, solely for the reason of making it out alive tonight. You were tipsy, but only lightly.

“Hey,” You hear Felix call out to you. You head towards their side of the bar, feeling the eyes of the members of the Golden Deer watch you as you walk. You pay no mind to it, plastering a wide smile as you raise your eyebrow. “Ready to order again?” You ask the trio from earlier.

“No, no. We'll pass on the drinks for now,” Sylvain flashes you a cheeky grin, rising from his stool. “We have to get going. Apparently, Dimitri's all better now, so we have to listen to whatever he has to say.”

Pouting playfully, you hop over the bar, soon taking each one of them for a hug. Sylvain embraces you almost immediately. Ingrid squeezes you tightly as soon as you make your way to hug her. Felix wasn't too keen with the idea—but he melts into the hug anyway, making you chuckle lightly as you part. 

“Take care. Tell the others to stop by soon!”

They all nod. Felix pats your head lightly, and before you knew it, the three of them were on their way out of the club, while you hopped over the bar once more; now turning your attention towards the Golden Deer.

“So you're close even with the Blue Lions, huh?” Ignatz notes, a sweet smile making its way to his lips as he takes small sips from his appletini. “It must be nice being popular around the darker part of the woods.”

You shrug nonchalantly at this. “Well, I don't know about that. But I guess having friends is nice,” For a quick second, you direct your stare at Claude, before closing them momentarily to dwell on what Ignatz said. “Though, I’ve been kind of picky these days.”

“About time!” Hilda exclaims suddenly, slamming her tequila glass atop the mahogany bar, obtaining a low wince from you. Her eyes soften slightly, sending you an apologetic glance, before soon opening her mouth to speak her mind, “Some of your friends have questionable backgrounds, you know.” She crosses her legs after, beaming with pride. “Like that one guy with that gang of Shepherds or whatever they’re called.”

You chortle with amusement, leaning on the nearly empty shelf behind you. While Hilda’s point had promise, her argument was weak and riddled with hypocrisy. You doubt she cared, though. “No offense, but your slates aren’t exactly clean either. But I’m not one to judge a person’s character just because of their backgrounds,” You mentally start to question your moral compass after uttering these words. “My other friends may be associated with all sorts of chaos, but at least they don’t leave me hanging.”

You smile proudly at yourself as soon as you notice Claude’s ears perking up, flaring red as he diverts his focus onto his drink.

“Hanging?” Lorenz fleers, adjusting the rose on his jacket as he does so. “My, my. Who’s the unfortunate fellow who left you hanging?” At this, most members snicker.

“Someone ghosted you, huh? You know, whoever did that to you just made a hundred thousand enemies from underground,” Snorting, Leonie rolls her eyes, nodding in acknowledgement as if she was telling you that she had your back. With a sly grin, you cross your arms, a surge of confidence from the liquid courage you drank earlier overtaking your system as you stare intently at Claude’s green eyes, watching him shift awkwardly as he tries to return the same level of intensity of your gaze.

“I honestly doubt that, though.” Pushing your hair back, you release a dramatic sigh. “Even if he hypothetically had a hundred thousand enemies, I’m sure he’d be able to take them on.” At this, Leonie and the others blink curiously, sensing the light tension that quickly surrounded their environment.

Preparing yourself mentally and emotionally for the response you were about to get, you boost up your confidence even more with your bitter pride, edging closer towards the group as you gesture towards none other than their scheme-enthusiastic leader, Claude von Riegan.

“And, besides; you guys are loyal to him, yeah? I’m sure you’d have his back anyway. Don’t you agree, Mister von Riegan?” 

And so, a series of surprised gasps and baffled expressions from your friends begin to unravel; with them bombarding you with a variety of questions as Claude chuckles amusingly at the situation you put him in. His carefree spirit annoyed you to no end, your eyebrows twitching a little because of his reaction. At that point, you inwardly whisper an apology to the Gods above for thinking about strangling Claude von Riegan right then and there.

_ “Are you serious?” _

_ “Claude and Y/N? Since when?” _

_ “Wait, this has got to be some kind of twisted bullshi _ —”

One voice stood out from the rest, and that voice belonged to none other than Leonie Pinelli, rising abruptly from her seat as her eyes widened with surprise, piecing two and two together, pointing accusatory fingers at the both of you.

“The night I introduced you two!”

You flinch as you start to recollect the happenings that night. You nod curtly, pursing your lips into a thin line. While sneaking a peek at how Claude looks right now tempted you greatly, you fight the urge to do so, opting to check your wrist watch instead to check if your shift for the night finally ended.

A quarter to three in the morning. Your shift ended in approximately fifteen minutes. With this in mind, you sigh in relief.

“You ghosted her? Are you for real?”

You avert your focus to Hilda’s question. Claude gulps down his scotch, readying himself. He sends a quick smile your way before finally opening his mouth to talk. 

“You can say that,” He mumbles out. It was audible, but barely; causing you to roll your eyes at his sudden lack of spine. The others sent him urgent looks, as if mentally telling him to pray and tell. “It was around four months ago—we went out the night you introduced us.” The male continues, gesturing towards Leonie as the said female scoffs lightly at him. His peers stare at him with shocked expressions, blinking at him out of disbelief. In unison, they all shake their heads profusely, subsequently downing the drink in their glasses to better process the situation.

“You're an  _ asshole! _ ” You hear Raphael cry out, crossing his arms as he fights off the grin that threatened to overtake his expression. “You know, if Y/N told anyone about this, we'd all be fucked—”

“I haven't told anyone, so worry not.” You chuckle lightly afterwards, unwrapping the apron around your waist and hooking it below the counter. “Besides, I'll sound weak and heartbroken if I tell anyone; I heard he's used other people to climb up the ladder, anywa—”

“That's not the case with you, though?” Claude cuts you off, his expression akin to that of a stoic one, one eyebrow arched as he analyzed you with his orbs. “Will you give me a chance to explain, at the very least?”

You scrunch your nose. You place a finger on your chin, mockingly posing as if you were actually considering it. You revert your stare at him, a passive-aggressive smile blossoming on your expression, soon shaking your head.

“I'll pass on that. My shift has ended, anyway, so it's best if I leave you guys for now.”

As if on cue, multiple groans and complaints erupt within your group, resulting in you laughing awkwardly, bidding farewell to all of them with a mere wave, soon rushing to the back exit of the club. You try your hardest not to look back at Claude, stuffing your fists inside your jacket's pockets, clenching them out of frustration. The dimly lit exit was nearing with each step you took, soon quickening your pace to avoid more needless conversation and shrouding your head with shallow thoughts of melancholy and hurt, all for the sake of taking your mind off his ridiculously charming grin.

“Leaving so soon?”

A sigh. You knew leaving the joint unscathed was too good to be true.

“What do you want?”

You don't make the effort to turn and face him, only lowering your head meekly to face the floor of the bustling club. You could feel his stare burning at the back of your head, however, sending cold shivers down your spine as you try your hardest not to cave and break down. You knew you were overreacting, the reason why you were was a mystery to you. He was a stranger up until a couple of months ago. Your secret rendezvous with him only lasted for a week. There wasn't much attachment involved—not that you were aware of.

Maybe the longing you felt when he slipped away from your grasp had gradually built up into something more over time—into something worth crying about, something worth doubting yourself for.

That, in and of itself, felt terrifying.

“Look,” Your companion begins, a deep breath escaping his lips. “Give me five minutes. I just need to explain.”

You roll your eyes at this. With a scoff, you shake your head slowly, sucking in the insides of your cheeks after as you try to muster up the courage to speak once more. This was overwhelming.

“Explain what, exactly?” You retaliate. “Why you left me without a warning? Or why you suddenly decided to come back and ruin things for me?” At this point, you could hear the sound of his low breathing from behind you, ragged and unsteady, as if he came back from running a marathon. Somehow, you knew it was hard for him as well, but the irrational part of your brain shrugged that thought away. “ _ Come on _ , Claude. We both know you don't  _ need _ to explain. You just want to make yourself feel better.”

You chuckle solemnly afterwards, a bitter smile making its way to your lips. Your previously clenched fists were now relaxed inside your pockets, fiddling with the keys and coins inside to keep the numbness away.

“And, besides, there was hardly even an 'us' back then. It was probably just a one time thing, y'know?” Your last sentence came out as a mere whisper, almost immediately getting eaten up by the deafening void of silence that surrounded the two of you. Soon, though, you hear a faint chuckle erupt, causing you to furrow your eyebrows out of confusion.

“You like the smell of freshly squeezed oranges, right?”

“..What?”

“And you actually prefer making coffee instead of alcoholic drinks.” Claude smiles fondly as he continues speaking, albeit you couldn't see it. He takes a small step closer towards you, his deep green eyes burning softly at the back of your head whilst doing so. You freeze on the spot, rendered speechless by his sudden outburst of statements.

“You babysit a pair of girl twins during the weekend. And you adore walking around the forest near the Faerghus district—you know, where those little girls live.” 

Slowly, you raise your head.

“You scratch your eyebrow when you're lying; you record football games on your TV just in case your roommate hasn't watched it yet, and you hate getting sand on your feet.”

And it went on like that for a while. Somehow, Claude was able to remember all the things that you mentioned to him back then, memorizing all of your silly quirks at the same time, too; you were left in awe. You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes ever so slowly, fiddling with the hem of your clothes.

“And.. You mess with your clothes when you're about to cry,” Was the last thing you heard before dissolving into a fit of quiet sobs, wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your jacket. Claude approaches you now, wrapping his arms securely around you as he combs your hair reassuringly, his embrace tightening with each passing minute.

“Do you think I'd remember all of that if that week was just a one time thing?”

Reluctantly, you shake your head slowly, keeping your hands glued to your face, too embarrassed to look at Claude in the eye. You feel him place his chin atop your head, accentuating the immense difference in your heights. Soon, you hear him let out a low chuckle, humming in satisfaction right after.

“I.. had to handle something a couple of months ago.” He starts. “I didn't want to involve you in my dirty work. I couldn't risk it.” Although filled with hesitance, Claude takes the time to explain his side, a frown overtaking his lips for a moment. “I was supposed to come back, you know. But one thing lead to another, and everyone began to—”

You never really heard the end of his sentence, as you took him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer to you to meet his lips with a kiss.

He melts into it right away, however; his arms snaking up around your waist, subsequently fluttering his eyes close as he pushes you towards the wall. The both of you stay like that for a minute, before finally breaking away to grasp your steady breathing, soon burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I'm sorry,” You whisper softly into his ear. You could feel Claude smiling even though you were unable to see it, soon rubbing your back soothingly, almost as if he was assuring you that it was okay.

The months prior to this moment were hellish; melancholic, lonely, almost as if time went painstakingly slow. Above all else, the months you spent without him felt lacking, somehow. But as of now, a part of you knew, that even though you and Claude got off on a rough start, the months to come would easily be the best ones you'll ever have, especially if you spent it alongside him.

Terrifying, or however it may feel—it was worth it.


End file.
